I dropped this bag of shoes off three months ago in the warm autumn sun. The day I almost got backed over while waiting to cross the street, remember?

Hey. HEY! Banging

on the window pounding

on the window but the car kept moving.

Angry mad tall fiery

redhead, cursing.

Kicking epithets into silver metal.

What the fuck are you doing? Didn't you see me standing there? I was standing there. You didn't see me standing there.

I'm sorry, so sorry, Sparks. I feel terrible.

I walk next door to Dmitri's, thinking the ATM is just inside the door. Instead, I walk smack into a dive bar right in the middle of a video game and a few dejected conversations. There are more than half a dozen riff-raff and two sorry looking women.

White trash. Mullets.

Fifty-year old pot bellies and

crinkled, sagging

breasts

watching a Ravens game.

Cheap beer everywhere and it's not even noon.

Who the hell drinks before noon, anyway?

Some young, some old. Some white, some brown. But all looking like they'd seen better days. Days when they weren't compelled to drink before noon.

The potbellies light up when I walk in. It's not like that. Sorry. No, you can't buy me a drink. I just need some cash for the cobbler.

1 Comment

i really like the way this was written. reminds me of the mount royal tavern and how much i liked it there. plus you couldn't beat the pizza for $5.99 that is from little italy in baltimore. this put a smile on my face. you can drink before noon if you are camping :)

My name is Callie Neylan. I am a designer, writer, photographer + educator. I work as a senior designer in the user experience group at NPR. I am also adjunct faculty in the design division at MICA (Maryland Institute College of Art), ranked among the top art and design schools in the country.